


Predator and Prey

by Shadow_Chaser



Series: Letters Home [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because I am a sadist towards favorite characters Ben gets hurt, Ben is utterly oblivious to Washington's father-like concern for him, Caleb is a good bro, Charles Lee is more like AC3 than TURN but still a smug snake, Don't worry he gets better-ish, Gen, Mashing three sources together - AC3 - TURN - History, Post-Episode s02e05 Sealed Fate, Pre-Episode s02e06 Houses Divided, References s02e10 Gunpowder Treason and Plot but does not "Joss" it, Sequence 8 Mission 3 with a few tweaks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4843580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Chaser/pseuds/Shadow_Chaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Connor's capture by the Templars, Ben scrambles for a way to warn Washington of the attempt on his life.  But his plans are derailed when he discovers that Charles Lee has invited Washington to witness the execution of the 'assassin' discovered in their midst.  Sequence 8, Memory 3 in Ben's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Predator and Prey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Legume_Shadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legume_Shadow/gifts).



> In AC3, Bridewell Prison is located in New York City, but for the purposes of this crossover, Bridewell Prison is just outside of York City on the Jersey side of the Hudson.

The last time Ben panicked was when he had been holding the body of Betsy Andersen as she bled out all over the wooden floors of one of the many small meeting houses on Yale's campus. She had been the tailor's wife, a mother figure to the group of Assassins that had been hiding out and meeting on the campus. Ben had been beside himself, his hands sticky with her blood in an attempt to stem the wound. He remembered her telling him to hide, to leave her and never speak of this, to leave their bodies to the authorities because it was the only way he could be protected. He had not even joined them and he had felt torn and scared that she was already protecting him.

He had not panicked when he discovered Nathaniel Sackett's body in his tent. It had not been panic, but despair. That he had failed his mentor, that he had failed horrifically because for all of his training, for everything he had been taught – he had not caught the assassin in time and let him escape.

But now, Ben was very close to panicking as he saw the familiar forms of his Commander-in-Chief, his manservant Billy Lee, a small unit of bodyguards complimented by some of his Dragoons, Caleb Brewster riding amongst them. But what really sent alarm bells ringing through his head was the smiling, malevolent form of _Charles Lee_ of all people, riding next to the General. Lee was smiling gaily and gesticulating with a hand as he held Washington's attention with a conversation of sorts. Ben shifted on his saddle as he reigned in his horse, waiting for the approaching party.

He saw Caleb seek him out. As soon as their eyes met, Ben shot him a look that conveyed his unspoken words ' _what the hell was Washington doing here?!_ ' before Caleb shrugged with a grimace. His message had only been for Caleb to come, not for the General and a small entourage along with Lee, of all people, to be there. Something had happened outside of when his message had been delivered and Caleb had only managed to travel with the party, it seemed. He had been counting on Caleb's support to stage a jail break for Connor; having also alerted Achilles by way of fastest courier and General Putnam for his secret support. But the fact that Washington was here, on the day of Connor's execution did not bode well for Ben and his plans.

A part of him also railed against the fact that he could not do the same for Abe and it was only because of where the prisons of Bridewell and Sugar Hill were located. Bridewell was just outside of York City on the Jersey side of the Hudson. Easier to secure and reinforce should anything happen to Washington. Sugar Hill was deep within the heart of York City. But Ben had vowed that after Connor had gotten out of prison, he would ask for his assistance in breaking Abe out.

But now, he had to deal with the fact that his General was here, with Charles Lee of all people. Lee had also brought his newly promoted Lieutenant Colonel Bradford with him and Ben frowned at the smugness in the other man's gaze and countenance. Pursing his lips, he heeled his horse and trotted to meet the party, snapping off a hasty salute to Washington.

“General,” he greeted, his mind half-thinking just steps ahead of his mouth. He did not know what kinds of secrets or falsehoods Lee had been whispering into Washington's ear.

His General only nodded once, staying silent, but Ben could feel the weight of his gaze on him – calculating, questioning, and most of all, more than likely wondering what he was doing here. And that was Ben's dilemma. The last time he had spoken to his General was a vague reassurance of the retrieval of Sackett's papers, stolen by the assassin that had killed him. They had not spoken since and Ben knew that Washington had questions.

“Major Tallmadge, fancy seeing you here,” Lee said loudly and Ben only managed to keep a cordial expression on his face.

His attempts to trap Lee into revealing that he was a traitor in the camp a couple of months ago had failed. It had earned Washington's ire because of his foolhardy attempt to forcibly reveal Lee's hand when his Commander-in-Chief already had his suspicions. He had learned that Washington could not prove his own suspicions without decimating the army's loyalties. That still stung, especially when Lee's man Bradford had been promoted and lauded for his actions in recent campaigns.

“Sir,” he greeted Lee, “I received actionable reports that I was going to pass onto General Scott that spoke of a plot against our General here and was on my way back when I received word of your arrival. If I may ask why are you so near British lines? If the scouting reports I've received are true, then-”

“Your report is a little late then, _Major_ ,” Lee said, and Ben could hear the sneer in his rank, “ _my_ intelligence has caught the assassin that would have made his way to our camp in Valley Forge and slit our throats.” He gestured with a hand towards the ridge that led down to Bridewell Prison, “In fact, we're on our way to oversee his execution.”

“I had passed by and noticed that preparations seemed almost complete. I do not think it necessary for someone of your rank-” Ben realized that his mouth had overtaken his mind and coughed, clearing his throat roughly at the looks of mild surprise he received from both Washington and Lee, “I mean, sirs, a public execution would always have the danger of the prisoner escaping-”

Lee laughed, “Surely you do not think our men so incompetent? And if this assassin does escape, the crowd would gladly restrain him, if not outright kill him. He is, a half-breed redskin mongrel after all.”

Ben hoped that his surprise did not show as he fought to keep his expression neutral. Lee knew _who_ Connor was? And had more than likely met him, judging from his vulgar description. Ben had his own prejudices against the natives of the land, their seemingly savage and foreign ways, but he did not deny their effectiveness in whatever perceived enemy they were to kill. He remembered his father's stories of natives that had joined the Brotherhood, Kesegowaase and others from his tribe, their fierceness and dedication to the Creed.

However, his knowledge was tempered by what he had seen in his hasty escape from Robert Rogers' ambush upon his men a little over a year ago. There had been natives serving amongst the Queen's Rangers and for that fact alone, he had his prejudices against their kind. The natives held no allegiances to the Patriots or Tories, and thus were a wild card that he was not willing to overlook as a threat. He supposed it extended to Connor too, considering his half-native status, but he also took into consideration the fact that Connor served the Assassin Brotherhood and had helped the Patriots to several victories. He owed Connor that much to be attempting to rescue him from the gallows.

There was also still the matter of the plot against Washington. The man that Ben had pointed Connor towards, Thomas Hickey, had thankfully been captured, but he had heard a disturbing rumor while he had been scouting out Bridewell's walls that Hickey was in collusion with a group of powerful people. People that secretly served the British, or at least had British-aligned goals. Whether or not they had pressured for Hickey's release from prison was not known, but Ben had a bad feeling about the secret power behind the British's campaign. He wanted to name them what he thought it was, but was superstitious about such things until he could accurately pinpoint it.

And he did not want his Commander-in-Chief anywhere near such shadowy power. Not until he could confirm his suspicions with Connor.

The fact that the Assassin was captured also boded some suspicion as to his abilities, having only witnessed him to the edges of York City before he seemingly blended with the crowd and disappeared from Ben's eyes to pursue the forger that was doing some errand for Hickey. Still, the way Lee had described Connor worried Ben as he nodded, “My apologies then, General Lee. I had not known whom the assassin was, only that he was caught and set to be executed.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Caleb attempting to smother his smile at his words, but at the same time look at him with some curiosity. Caleb had known _nothing_ about his mission, having only been recalled on his orders. He could see that his best friend was burning with the need to ask him questions, but also wise enough to recognize when something was amiss when he spoke. Lee however, had instantly narrowed his eyes in a shrewd manner, as if he knew a secret that Ben was not supposed to be privy to, but had apparently found out.

Ben was instantly on guard at the expression. What secret did Lee know that he was not supposed to know? And if so, how did it related to Connor and his execution and perhaps even to Thomas Hickey. But just as quickly, Lee's expression changed as he urged his horse to walk again, “Perhaps I should ensure that your scouts be put to better use than skulking around for troop numbers.”

It was Ben's turn to be surprised again by Lee's words as the small entourage rode past him. He heeled his horse to join them in the rear, a soldier moving to the side to let him ride next to Caleb, just behind Washington and Lee. Everyone knew that he was the Head of Intelligence, taking over General Scott's former post and gathering all of the military scouting reports. The side business with Mr. Culper and his line of spies had been buried under the regular reports received from the scouts he sent out – so what was Lee getting at? Did the man suspect that he had spies or was the comment just to get a rise out of him? He weighed his options for a moment before deciding that Lee was only trying to get a rise out of him – he seemed more preoccupied about Connor than of the business with Culper.

As much as he disliked using people in such a manner, he knew in his heart that he would put Abe, Anna, and any others that worked with him in the Culper business ahead of Connor's concerns. And if that meant potentially feeding Connor to Lee, then he would live with it. But for now, he would at least do everything in his power to stop Connor's execution and end the threat to Washington's life.

“What's going on Ben?” Caleb hissed at him as they rode at a leisurely pace towards the execution grounds outside of Bridewell. Since the time he had left to meet with Caleb – and now with Washington's party – a raucous crowd had gathered and were a bit agitated.

“I'll explain later,” Ben leaned over and whispered to Caleb, “but the man they're executing is innocent.”

“I figured as much,” Caleb replied quietly, “but shouldn't we be doing this, you know...?” He gestured with a shoulder towards the Hudson River and across it; where they could clearly see the buildings, fortifications, and burnt buildings from the Great Fire that made up York City.

Ben shook his head, unable to answer Caleb's question without compromising everything. “What about you?” he asked instead.

“I get the note to come here and next thing I know, Lee's barged in saying that his men caught an assassin who was going to execute Washington,” his friend nodded in Washington's direction, “handed 'im a document that supposedly details the plot, or at least a confession by some witness. But then Lee looks about to leave, saying that he will make sure the assassin is executed when Washington suddenly picks up another paper says he'll go with him.”

Ben blinked, surprised and glanced over to the back of his General before catching Caleb's nod.

“Me too, Benny-boy,” he said, “certainly caught Lee off-guard if that'll help.”

“I suppose,” Ben did not feel mollified by the fact that even Lee was surprised at Washington's insistence on coming to see the execution.

In fact, it only served to make him more worried about his safety. But it also made him wonder what Washington was thinking. He knew that his reports from Abe, Anna, and Abigail were kept with the utmost secret; something that was established when he had been tasked as the Head of Intelligence, but he had also long learned that Washington himself kept a lot of things secret until there was a need for it to be revealed. His suspicions of Lee as a traitor was one. Ben sighed quietly as he adjusted himself in his saddle; he supposed that he would have to trust Washington and protect him as best as he could with the limited information he had.

The only problem was now trying to rescue Connor out from underneath Washington's nose without having Lee or even Bradford accuse him of being a traitor. If it was just Caleb here, Ben would have no problem. If Lee had been the only one here, he definitely would have no problem, but it was Washington being here that made it a problem. He did not want to put his General in a compromising situation unlike what had happened with his suspicions of Lee nor with what had happened with Sackett. But he also could not outright tell Washington that Connor was innocent since he had a feeling that his Commander-in-Chief was still furious with him. Rumors were already swirling that he was about to be dismissed as Head of Intelligence, but Ben had hesitated to confront Washington with the rumors nor had he been summoned about them. He pulled himself from his troubling thoughts as they rode into one of the side alleys and dismounted, away from the crowds. Billy Lee gathered all of the horses reigns, holding their mounts steady.

Lee gestured to Washington as they started to walk, “I had been planning to view the execution from here, Your Excellency.”

He guided them around two buildings and another back alley before coming to what looked like used to be an auction platform decorated with buntings for another event. From this vantage point, Ben could clearly see the gallows in which a hangman's noose was readied along with a priest and several soldiers eyeing the crowd with wary eyes and fixed bayonets.

Beyond the gallows, several blocks away, was the gated and walled corner of Bridewell Prison. They were going to hang Connor in the middle of the town that surrounded the prison; in full view of where there had been clearly a festival to celebrate the late-fall festivities. And judging by what he saw, he suspected that the crowd was going to go straight back to the festivities as soon as the mid-morning's execution was finished. He supposed that it was a little disconcerting to see such detachment to those who were about to die; but that was not what concerned him – it was the visceral reaction from the crowd. They were frenzied, almost frothing at the mouths if such a description could be ascribed to them, yelling for the death of the savage, hateful words thrown about the air. He had never seen such hatred spew forth from anyone facing their impending execution and there was no sign of Connor yet. What had been said since he had left to get the crowd like this? No wonder the soldiers looked nervous – this was a riot waiting to happen.

A covert, sideways look at Lee told him nothing, but Ben could not shake the feeling that Lee had somehow planned all of this. He and Caleb followed in Washington, Lee, and Bradford's wake, the small contingent of bodyguards moving with them. He could see the curious looks his men, who were amongst the mixed group of bodyguards, were giving him. He knew that they were loyal to him, but even he had no answers for his men.

The crowd paid no heed to their arrival, their attention focused on the gallows and to Ben's relief, he noticed that Washington did not seem to want to draw their attention away from it. Seeing that his General was well protected by his bodyguards, Ben was about to open his mouth to take his leave to 'scout' the perimeter before Lee inclined his head towards Washington.

“Sir, by your leave, I wish to ensure that the prisoner has no chance of escaping,” he gestured to the distant sight of a horse drawn covered cart arriving at the edges of the prison. Ben knew that Connor would be brought out soon.

“As you wish,” Washington murmured and Lee left with a snap of the tails of his cloak. A few of his men that had accompanied him followed.

Ben gritted his teeth in frustration – he had missed his opportunity to slip out from Washington's scrutinizing gaze and instead had allowed Lee to leave to do whatever he wished. It left him with no opportunity to slip Connor out during the transfer and instead he could only walk amongst the crowd- Ben drew himself short as another plan began to form into place. It was risky, but he could technically do it if he strategically placed his own men in key places lest he be shot-

“Sir,” he turned to Washington who looked at him with a mild gaze, “I would feel better if some of our men are amongst the crowd here in case a riot starts.”

“Very well, you may position them as you see fit, Major,” Washington replied and Ben smiled tightly to himself as he gestured wordlessly for his Dragoons and some of Washington's own bodyguards to follow him. They waded into the crowd, Caleb at his elbow as he directed several of them to form a perimeter of sorts close to Washington himself before directing the rest to scatter throughout.

“So, what's the plan?” Caleb said quietly under the guise of the noise and bodies.

“I'm going to need to borrow your coat and hat-”

“Wait, what?” Caleb stared at him, before shaking his head, instantly figuring out what he was planning, “No way, Tall-boy. You're going to get yourself shot by our boys if you think that you're going to swipe the assassin out from this crowd. Hell, some of them are already ready to shoot, so you're definitely going to get shot. What are you thinking- oof!”

Ben turned at the sound and was about to say something to whomever had ran into Caleb when he froze.

“Excuse me, good sirs,” Achilles' light rasp was barely audible over the crowd, but it told Ben _everything_. He caught the flicker of confirmation in the old Assassin's eyes and nodded once before the old man hobbled away, blending almost instantly into the crowd.

“Ben?”

“Never mind then,” he shook his head at Caleb's confused expression, “we should get back to Washington. Make sure he's all right.”

The Assassins were here and they would free Connor. He only needed to worry about Washington and in a way Ben was glad. They had gotten his message, though he did not see General Putnam in his brief glance around the crowd. It either meant that Putnam had more pressing matters to deal with or the man was killed sometime during the war.

“You feeling all right Ben?” Caleb asked as they pushed their way back, “first you summon me back from the decoy mission without a single explanation, then you have me come here, again, without a single explanation-”

“I'll tell you when-”

“Is this something to do with some intelligence from Ab-uh, Culper?” Caleb asked, a frown on his face.

“No,” Ben replied, “it's something that I was looking into on my own. Just happened to end up like this-”

“An assassin who apparently planned to kill good ole' Georgie over there and you were going to break into Bridewell Prison and spirit him away...why? What's this assassin to you?”

“Someone to help us with the Culper problem, I hope,” he muttered mostly under his breath as the two of them arrived back to Washington's side and took up a sentry-like post next to his Commander-in-Chief. He nodded to Washington who nodded back once before turning his gaze to his right. Ben followed his gaze and a frown appeared on his face at the sight of Connor in chains and rags stumbling along the cobblestones. His feet was bare and he looked like he had been severely beaten. He could hear the gasps and jeers of the crowd grow wild as Connor passed by, prodded along by the bayonets on the guards' rifles.

Behind him, Ben caught Lee's slight smile as he followed in his wake. There was some one trailing behind him, but the crowd swallowed the identity of the person up. He watched with a dispassionate gaze as Connor turned the corner, not even deigning them a look as he slowly stumbled towards the gallows. A part of him itched to tell Connor that Achilles was there, that his fellow Assassins were there to help, but he could not leave his post. It was up to the Assassins now.

He watched as the crowd surged, some of them pushing past the human-formed barricade to throw things as Connor and that was when he caught the flash of the familiar-looking cane of Achilles. He smiled inwardly at the old man's actions and for a moment thought he saw several others with discreet-looking hoods in the crowd. One had a frown on his face, as if he was warring with something in him, and Ben was struck at how oddly familiar the man looked. He flicked a look at Connor and back before it hit him – the older man had similar features to Connor. But Ben was unable to ponder more about the older man, as Connor advanced up the steps to the gallows.

The crowd cheered and surged and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Caleb shooting him a worried glance. He knew exactly what his best friend was thinking – why was he not doing anything if he knew the man was innocent? But their attention turned back as Lee advanced up the steps after Connor, a smirk on his face.

“Brothers, sisters, fellow Patriots,” he started grandly as Ben watched Connor glared out at the crowd, his dark eyes defiant, “several weeks ago we learned of a scheme so vile, so dastardly – that even repeating it now, disturbs my being.” He paced the length of the gallows with the familiar hangman's hood in his hands. The crowd cheered and hung onto his every word, “The man before you plotted to murder our much beloved General.”

Ben pressed his lips into a thin line as a light drizzle started up and the crowd started to boo at the news. This all but confirmed his suspicions that Lee _knew_ about this plot and he suspected, more than likely orchestrated it. But his theatrics here proved otherwise to anyone not privy to the information he had found out.

“Indeed. What darkness or madness moved him, none can say. And he himself offers no defense. Shows no remorse. And though we have begged and pleaded with him to share what he knows-”

He could not stop the snort of disbelief that issued through his mouth at Lee's honeyed words.

“-he maintains a deadly silence,” Lee drew the hood down on Connor's head and reached out for the noose placing it with speedy efficiency on Connor's neck, tightening it. “If the man will not explain himself – if he will not confess and atone – what other option do we have but this? He sought to send us into the arms of the enemy! And thus, we are compelled by justice to send him from this world.” The crowd chanted louder and louder, but Ben could hear some prayers being murmured as everyone knew that Connor's death was imminent.

“May God have mercy on your soul,” Lee pronounced and the trap opened.

It was almost too fast for Ben to follow, but in hindsight, he supposed it was the basic training he had received from his father that enabled him to pick out the known Assassin signal. There was the barest flick of a wrist that sent a knife through the air, cutting through the hewn rope like warm butter. At the same time, he thought he heard the phantom piercing whistle of an eagle, but thought it was his imagination. What wasn't his imagination was the utter _chaos_ that exploded in the gallows and crowd below as Connor was freed. Panic filled the air as several screamed.

For Ben, it was as if time had infinitely slowed to a crawl. His immediate concern was for his General's safety and just as he turned to shout for Caleb and the others to take Washington far away from this place, he saw the familiar glint of the end of a musket out of the corner of his eye. His thoughts caught up with him half a second later as he realized the musket was pointed at _Washington_ himself. Whomever was the assassin was using the chaos of Connor's escape to finish the deed and Ben automatically lunged towards his Commander-in-Chief.

Ben knew his actions were improper, but he was only reacting on instinct. He saw the startled look on Washington's face just as he managed to grab the other man's cloak and one of his arms and using his momentum, shoved them to the side- Something hit him, pain briefly flaring before disappearing as they tumbled to the ground. But Ben had already let go and was rolling to his feet, spinning around to draw his sword and pistol-

He was too late.

Thomas Hickey had abandoned his rifle and leveled dual pistols at him and at Washington. There was a sinister-looking satisfied smile on his face as he drew back the flintlocks-

And just as suddenly spurted blood from his lips. Hickey fell forward, the pistols dropping from his suddenly limp hands and Ben's eyes widened in shock at the sight of a tomahawk embedded deep in the man's back. Beyond him was the bloodied visage of Connor, his arm still stretched out when he had thrown the tomahawk. Blood coated and caked the Assassin's ragged shirt, arms, and pants. Flecks of it were smeared across his face. He looked like a madman as he towered over Hickey's body. His eyes were focused on Hickey, but Ben saw them flick up towards him and could only blink at the sheer ferocity in them. He had a sense of mutual reassurance pass through that quick gaze before he sensed someone running up from behind.

He turned and only managed to barely stop himself from skewering the familiar sight of General Israel Putnam. The gruff General deigned to ignore him as he ran past, waving his arms at the soldiers that had converged on Connor and a dying Thomas Hickey.

“Don't shoot! This man is a _hero!_ ”

Ben watched as the soldiers looked at each other in confusion before slowly lowering their weapons and it was only then that he sheathed his own sword and holstered his pistol. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief as he saw that Connor had knelt down next to Hickey, seemingly giving the man his last rites or was talking to him as Putnam continued to reassure the soldiers that had gathered. Seeing that Putnam had everything under control, Ben turned and gestured to General Washington.

“We should be seeing you back to camp sir. General Putnam seems to have the situation under control, but we don't know if there are others who are planning to kill you, sir,” he said respectfully gesturing to the back alleys where he knew Billy Lee was waiting with their horses.

Washington looked troubled for a moment, staring beyond Ben before looking at him, his gaze shrewd and calculating. “Yes, I believe that would be wise,” he said.

Ben did not know what thoughts his Commander-in-Chief was thinking, but he allowed the other man to examine him as he saw fit. Apparently something seemed to have agreed with Washington as he abruptly turned and walked back the way that they had come from. Ben trailed behind, wincing as he felt a sudden sting on his right side and glanced down to see the blues of his jacket a lot darker than normal.

He peeled back the cloth and grimaced as he saw blood soaking through the rest of his clothes. A quick brush of the wound made him grimace, but he thought he did not feel a ragged hole, nor the quick hitching pain that he knew was from a ball lodged in his body. Plus, it did not hurt as much as his shoulder wound had when he had been shot by Robert Rogers. It must have grazed him then, but the amount of blood already soaking through his clothes worried him.

“Ben!” Caleb's call made him look up to see his friend wave at him, wondering what kept him before his eyes fell on the blood that was clearly soaking through his clothes. Before Ben could tell him that it was nothing serious, Caleb ran over, concern in his eyes, “Shite, geez Ben-”

“It's fine,” Ben waved away Caleb's hands as he lowered his jacket, the dark blues thankfully covering most of the blood soaking through. To the casual viewer, it was not noticeable, but Ben caught his friend's frown. “Seriously, it's fine. Just a graze-”

“Yeah, bleedin' a lot,” Caleb glared at him before Ben pushed past him and hurried to where he knew Washington and the others were more than likely waiting. He heard his friend scramble to catch up to him as they rounded the corner and to his chagrin, Washington, Lee, Bradford, and the others _were_ already waiting for them. Lee looked angry and it mollified him somewhat. If it was truly Lee's plan to have Connor executed, then he was glad that his plan had been thwarted and the real assassin killed. There was no proof, but Ben was determined to find one connecting Hickey to Lee and to the letter found on Pitcairn's body.

“My pardon, Your Excellency, I was ensuring that we had no pursuers,” Ben lied as he quickly climbed onto his mount, forcing himself to not grimace at the sharp pain of his wound. He could feel the cold wetness of the blood that had soaked into his clothes touching his skin. It was definitely bleeding a lot more than a bullet graze would, but Ben resolutely ignored it. He wheeled his horse around as Washington set off, following behind as they thundered out of the area and back towards Valley Forge.

* * *

The ride was long, hard, and arduously painful for Ben when they finally arrived at camp in the dead of night. Each jolt of hooves touching the ground had sent sharp ripples of agony up and down his right side. He supposed it was small miracles that the bitter late autumnal cold had numbed him to the feeling of blood seeping into his clothes. When they finally thundered into camp, all Ben could think about was his tent and a chance to sleep away the pain.

Reigning his horse to a stop, he made to dismount like the others when he suddenly froze at the sharp white-hot agony that hit him. It nearly made him reel in his saddle as he had tried to dismount on his injured side. It was only Caleb's voice calling to him from what seemed to be like a long tunnel that he managed to blink and shake his head from the fog he was seemingly in to see his friend staring up at him with some concern on his face.

“Hey Ben, come on...I'll help you off,” Caleb had already dismounted and gestured with his hands for him to take them. It was only then that he realized the blood had seeped a large splotch of red down the right side of his pants. Ben knew that some would scoff at the help, but he owed Caleb so much more than that and leaned over to take his friend's hand as he gingerly pulled himself from the saddle, grimacing at sharp needles of pain that shot into him at his movement.

“That's it...that's it, just take it easy...and...there ya go,” Caleb said as he finally got off his horse and immediately felt one of his arms being looped around his friend's broad shoulders and neck.

Ben took the silent offer of Caleb's weight and leaned heavily against him, trying to take the weight off of his right leg. He was distantly aware that the others were staring, but was in too much pain to care at the moment as Caleb gently limped him towards the direction of the medical tents. The only thing he cared about was that Washington was safe and that the plot had been thwarted.

If he had turned around right then and there, he would have seen his beloved General's face etched with a fatherly concern and worry for the man who had saved his life.

* * *

General George Washington summoned his Head of Intelligence three days later and told him he was to be sent to Boston to inspect the troops before the start of the New Year. Benjamin Tallmadge took it as a failure on his part for not telling him the truth about the plot to murder him, his failure in preventing Sackett's assassination, and the fact that he had not been able to handle Abraham Woodhull's escapades as a false double-agent. What he did not know was that Washington had taken all those factors into consideration, but also wanted to send his favorite officer to safety, if only for a little while.

 

~END~


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